


Unavoidable

by KateAtTheClose



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Backstory, Draft Board Shenanigans, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateAtTheClose/pseuds/KateAtTheClose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two fundamental truths about George Luz: 1) He can't keep his mouth shut.  2) He is often underestimated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unavoidable

 

“Hey boys! Look who it is! Go home, Georgie. You really think they’ll let you in Uncle Sam’s Army?” 

George rolled his eyes as he walked past the young men clustered around the entrance to the draft board building. “Shouldn’t you be off stealing some poor kid’s lunch money?” He asked dismissively, all good-natured irritation.  “I woulda thought you guys’d get tired doing this shit once you passed grammar school.” A hand suddenly appeared on his chest, fingers spread and pressing into the fabric of his shirt. George’s eyes followed the arm up to the face of the much bigger boy it belonged to, who had set himself firmly in front of him to block his way.  

“Do you  _got_  any lunch money?” The blonde asked pointedly, and there were loud guffaws from his cohorts on either 

George resisted the urge to roll his eyes again, with questionable success. “Christ, Ralph, could ya be any more clichéd? And here I was, thinking I’d done ya a favour by assuming you’d graduated.” 

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Ralph fisted his hand in George’s shirt and dragged him in closer. George made a face when the increased proximity gave him a whiff of Ralph’s breath.  

“I know you’re none too bright ‘n all, Ralph, but if you wanted to kiss me so bad you might’ve brushed your teeth first, huh?” George’s voice was as candid as ever, but his patience was being sorely tested, as evidenced by the slight narrowing of his eyes.  

“You think you’re pretty damn tough, don’t you Georgie-boy?” Ralph grinned, showing in the process that he was a fine candidate for some intense dental work, and giving his grip on George, and consequently George himself, a good strong shake.   

“Look, do we really gotta do this right here?” George’s tone was tinged with annoyed resignation. They were practically on the draft board’s doorstep, for Christ’s sake.    

One of Ralph’s companions stepped in and grabbed George’s shoulder, implying the answer was a resounding yes. George promptly decided that he had had enough of being manhandled this morning, thank you very much, but thought that his mother would be awfully proud of how polite he’d been thus far. He tore himself suddenly to the side, loosening the new guy’s grip, and punched Ralph full across the face. He shook his hand reflexively as his knuckles burned with pain from connecting solidly with Ralph’s cheekbone as Ralph stumbled to the side. Then, as Ralph reared around to come at him, George threw himself on Ralph, knocking them both to the concrete sidewalk. Ralph’s head made a satisfying noise as it collided with the sidewalk, but apparently he was just as literally hard-headed as he was figuratively and it didn’t seem to have too much of an effect.  

George got a nice look at the red mark on Ralph’s cheekbone that promised to develop into a lovely shiner, even as his fist smacked across George’s jaw, tossing his head to the side and allowing Ralph’s buddy the time he needed to get a kick to his ribs in edgewise. Ralph was suddenly over him, anchoring George to the ground with a knee on his thigh and a hand clutching his shoulder as he pummelled George’s gut with a thick fist. George tucked his free leg up, his smaller frame giving him the advantage in dexterity, and landed a solid kick to Ralph’s knee, feeling it give in a way that was distinctly unnatural for such a joint. 

Ralph screamed in a very unmanly way and grabbed at his knee, inadvertently allowing George to slither out from beneath him, only to have to duck as Big and Stupid Number Two came at him, fists swinging, and he backed into Big and Stupid Number Three. It really was an unfair generalization for Ralph’s friends to give them such monikers – they were only of average height and build, and he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about their mental faculties. But they were bigger than him, so that was valid by default, and they were friends with Ralph, which suggested a certain lack of judgement and good sense, so he felt that in the interest of convenience that the mental labels would do just fine. 

 There was something of a crowd gathering, George noticed mildly, in the way you did in such situations when you really had more important things to worry about but couldn’t help but perceive odd details. His arms were pulled back sharply by Number Three and then Two was in front of him and discernibly couldn’t decide which he wanted to do more: punch George or gloat about this sudden, wonderful opportunity to punch George.

 “Georgie, why the fuckin’ hell would they want a runt like you to fight against the Japs n’ Krauts?” Two had apparently gone with the gloating option, but seemed to be ready to punch him just in case he changed his mind again. He had clearly been reading too many comic books and now couldn’t resist the temptation to take a moment to revel in his premature victory. His voice was disgustingly gleeful, that of an understudy bully finally given an opportunity to show that he had the chops to be a headliner. 

 “Robbie, why the fuckin’ hell would they want a deranged son of a VD-infested bitch like you to fight against them?” George intoned in a mimic of the one waving a fist a few inches from his nose, charitable enough to use his real name.   Something that might have been a chuckle emerged from Big and Stupid Number Three from behind him, his breath unpleasantly brushing his ear. “See? Walter wonders too.” George added brightly in his own voice, just as a fist came crashing into his jaw again, proving that Robbie had no sense of the benefits of variety.        

George felt around with his tongue and located the source of the blood in his mouth as Robbie reared back for another blow, and took advantage of Walter’s loosening hold to throw his head and shoulders down low enough for Robbie’s fist connect with Walter’s face. 

 “Fuck!” Walter growled, bringing one arm up to catch the blood rushing out of his nose with his sleeve. 

 “You guys should watch more Stooges films.” George advised kindly, tearing his remaining arm out of Walt’s grip and slipping easily between a few of the now-clapping onlookers. They let him pass without comment and calmly closed ranks behind him.

 “You boys! Stay where you are!” The stern voice of the fuzz came from behind George, and he turned as he opened the door to the West Warwick draft board building to see Ralph on the ground, still clutching his knee and making little mewling noises. Robbie and Walter were grappling with each other above him, and an annoyed and harried-looking man in a police uniform brandishing a baton approached them with intimidating determination. 

 He let the door drift shut with a clatter behind him as he approached the front desk, tonguing the cut on the inside of his cheek and ignoring some of the looks he got from men and boys milling about the office. He grinned at the man behind the desk, one hand wiping his bleeding knuckles on his pants, his shirt rumpled and dotted with blood. The man wordlessly slid a pencil across the table towards him, and that was how George Luz volunteered for the Airborne.


End file.
